


Just Before 6 A.M.

by Poochee



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Injury Recovery, M/M, Swingers, Teasing, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 23:24:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1666310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poochee/pseuds/Poochee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> “What would you like?”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>A grin lifts the corners of his lips, peeking out from underneath his forearm to look at Jackie, “Big, fluffy blueberry pancakes…”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Bloo-bawrry pawncakes?” Jackie teases with a grin, chuckling as Francois pokes him in the side with his foot.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Stop teasing and cook for me.” </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Before 6 A.M.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rocknrolljunkie989](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocknrolljunkie989/gifts).



He had broken the button on the suite remote; pushed it in too much, and now the woman selling a horribly printed dress was speaking Spanish that didn’t match the words her lips were forming. It looked silly, and when he tried to change the channel in hopes of fixing it, everyone else was speaking Spanish, too.

_Fichue chose…_

“What did you do?” Jackie’s tone is playfully accusing as he makes his way into the main room, smiling at the sight of a sleepy Francois perched on the sofa, his legs folded under him, his hair a mess, and his full lips parted just the slightest as he watched the saleswoman show off another dress.

The Frenchman blinks and looks over at his mentor, licking his lips as they curl up into a mischievous little smile, “Nothing,  _amoureux,_ ” he murmurs in his thick accent, wrapping his arms around himself and not seeming to notice how his shirt collar pulls to the side in result. Jackie can see the beauty spot on his collarbone and resists the urge to kiss it.

“Is that why everyone’s speaking Spanish, then?” The Scot smirks, shuffling over to the sofa and taking the seat next to the younger man, not minding for the moment when Francois inches over until he’s tucked away in his side comfortably.

“It was their choice to speak Spanish,” he murmurs, pressing his cheek against the side of Jackie’s chest, “I simply allowed them to.”

“Now you can’t understand what the lovely girl is saying,” Jackie insists on teasing him, wearing a grin that’s brighter than the rising sun just outside the picture frame window. Francois has to wonder why on earth he woke up so early, anyway. He was supposed to be on vacation.

“Neither can you.”

Right, it had been his ankles. They had been throbbing, sore. He had wanted Jackie to massage them, but the Scot was busy sleeping at the time. He hadn’t wanted to wake Helen, either.

“How’re your ankles?” A mind reader, this man.

“Sore,” he pouts his lower lip in attempts at getting a bit of sympathy, but Jackie only raises a brow, “Massage them?”

“You’re a brat,” Jackie chuckles, deep and soft, and Francois feels like purring as he stretches out on the sofa, placing his feet on his teammate’s lap.

A hum resounds from his throat as he feels Jackie’s fingers pulling his thick socks down, revealing the purple and blue ankles that were the results from his crash. He hears a soft ‘tut’ from the Scot, but nothing more, before gentle yet firm fingers are massaging around sharp joints. It hurts a little, the varying pressure over such tender spots, but it helps.

“Where’s Helen?” He asks softly, slinging an arm over his brilliant blue eyes, missing how Jackie glances over at him.

“Out, with Marie. They’ll be back later.”

_Swingers_ , he thinks with awe. What a weird, lovely thing. Never thought Helen would be into it, but apparently it strengthened her and Jackie’s relationship. Francois constantly checked in when he could, wondering if this really was ok, and was reassured that it was. He wondered how long it would be before they decided to stop.

He hoped not in the near future. Jackie was…amazing, to say the least.

“Hungry?”

“ _Oui_ …”

“What would you like?”

A grin lifts the corners of his lips, peeking out from underneath his forearm to look at Jackie, “Big, fluffy blueberry pancakes…”

“ _Bloo-bawrry pawncakes?_ ” Jackie teases with a grin, chuckling as Francois pokes him in the side with his foot.

“Stop teasing and cook for me.”

“If I leave, I can’t massage you.”

He ponders for a moment before deciding, “Pancakes _._ ”

Jackie gives a wordless nod, bringing Francois’ foot up and pressing a kiss to the bruised skin gently, doing the same to the other sweetly. The Frenchman smiles and refuses to acknowledge the sudden warmth in his cheeks, their eyes locked for a moment longer. The Scot stands and pulls the younger man up to his feet carefully, wrapping an arm around his waist comfortably and pressing another sweet kiss to his lips.

The pancakes are wonderful, more so when he’s pulled out to the balcony, in their pyjamas, to share them with Jackie in the morning sun.


End file.
